The Life You've Always Wanted
by ShafferTheFirst
Summary: "You will have never given him up. You will have always been together." A collection of cursed!Emma and Henry one-shots. All fluff.
1. Friday Nights

**The Life You've Always Wanted**

Just a collection of cursed!Emma and Henry fluffy one-shots due to lack there of in order to make the hiatus a little brighter (or survivable in Beckah and Sam's case). No biased shipping for either of her potential suitors; 100% cute mother and son moments. I own nothing other than a few of the prompts. Enjoy!

X

_Friday Nights_

Emma doesn't remember exactly when the tradition started. She doesn't remember how old he was, what brought it on, or even whose idea it was. But she does remember one thing: Friday nights. She doesn't worry about bills or work or the future on Friday nights. He doesn't worry about school or homework on Friday nights. One night a week, the little family is not interrupted by the scary outside world. Nothing ruins their pizza - board game – movie Friday nights. Friday nights are sacred Mom-Henry time; and that's all she needs to get through the week.

"One more good card and I win!" Henry gloats, boastfully grinning at the Sorry! board.

"Really?" she asks, "So what would happen if you drew a one?"

"I'd still be closer than you!" he cackles as she rubs her temples, reminding herself how much she hates this game. Monopoly. She dominated at Monopoly. Sorry! on the other hand, doesn't flow as well.

Until this night, apparently.

She peers up from her card and gives her son a smug smile.

"Gee, what a nice pawn you have there. It world be such a shame if someone-" she slams it faced up on the table, "-sent it back to start!"

"_NO!" _he wails, throwing his fists up in agony while she snickered away. "Can we watch the movie now before we end up not talking to each other ever again? 'Cause I kinda wanna use you as a pillow."

She slides out of her seat and folds her arms. "Is that all I am to you? A giant mom pillow?"

He unfolds them, slips underneath them, and places them on his back. "No, you're also a chef too."

He dashes out of her grasp before she can ring his little neck and starts setting the blankets up on the couch. She rolls her eyes and pops in _The Lion King_, a favorite on Friday nights. She curls up in her routine spot by the right arm rest and Henry snuggles into his – right next to by the right arm rest with his head in her lap.

"You're not gonna fall asleep this time, are you?" he asks, mimicking the same tone she uses when asking, _"You aren't trying to go to bed without finishing your homework, are you?"_

"Who me? Never," Emma states. He chuckles and faces the screen.

As expected, she does fall asleep before the second song. But he doesn't mind one bit. Especially since he was out like a light within the same scene.

It was his favorite part of Friday nights anyway.

X

Hope you all liked! I will be periodically adding more and more to this, so don't think this is it :) And if you have any moments you would like to reads, please don't hesitate to send one-shot prompts to me. Thanks for reading!


	2. Names

**The Life You've Always Wanted**

X

_Names_

She can't exactly pinpoint the reason that she named him Henry. It was such a long time ago…it just seemed to pop into her head the moment she felt his weight in her arms. Why that is, given that she did not try to think of a name for her entire nine months, she has no idea.

His middle name, however, she does know that well. It was the name of her imaginary friend. That friend went with her arm in arm through every foster home. That figure she never once saw, but she knew was always there. He was there when no one else was, like a protector. A protector shielding her from the pain of the past and helping her see the future as a brighter place.

So when she yells for Henry David from the kitchen it rolls off her tongue so smoothly, like no other name could ever be in comparison.

He bursts from his room in a full sprint, not knowing if he should be thinking of every wrong doing he has done in the past two months or prepare himself for defending his family. He only freezes when he finds her in the kitchen holding his backpack.

"How many times do I have to trip over this before you'll remember? This does _not_ go in the floor!"

He sighs and heads back to his cave after hanging it on the coat hanger, but not before she catches a glimpse of his wooden sword behind his back. She smiles.

Her little protector.


	3. Checking

**The Life You've Always Wanted**

X

_Checking_

It's an unconscious thing for her to do. She doesn't know why, but she's always done it.

Maybe it's because he is the best thing that has ever happened to her since nothing in her life has ever been close to the best thing that could possibly happen until he came along. And she must constantly reassure herself that he is real and is with her and it's not too good to be true. Like pinching herself to make sure she is awake.

Maybe it's because everything that has ever been even the slightest bit close to the best thing to happen in her life is gone for good. It happened with her real parents that abandoned her on the side of the freeway, where her only options were to get picked up or die in the cold. It happened with her first set of foster parents that shut her out when something new and better came along. It even happened with the man she truly thought she had to keep, but he left her as well.

But none of that matters now.

Because if none of those things happened, she wouldn't have Henry here with her today.

Which is why she chooses to accept that the reason the first thing she does after shooting up in the middle of the night from a nightmare is pad down the hall to check on Henry is one hundred percent maternal instinct.

It's like a routine. She wakes from the nightmare, flees to his bedroom, catches her breath when she sees that he's still there, watches him for a few minutes, kisses his head, tiptoes back to her room, and like magic; no more nightmares.

And the fact that every night this occurs she wakes up in the morning with her darling boy curled up next to her makes her tragic past that much more worth it.


	4. Little Worries

**The Life You've Always Wanted**

X

_Little Worries_

She doesn't like this. Not one little bit.

So many things could go wrong. What if he forgot? What if the driver decided to have a few drinks beforehand? What if he missed his stop? What if he fell asleep and the driver didn't check so he left him in there all night all alone?

_I should have just driven him, _she thinks, fidgeting uncomfortably on the front steps of the apartment building. She regretted mentioning that she had a doctor's appointment that she might not get out of until after school let out. Then he wouldn't have offered to take the bus so she wouldn't have to reschedule. Damn her for raising such a compassionate child.

But her little worries are melted away when the boxy yellow vehicle comes into view. She rises from her spot with her hand over her heart expecting the worst, but finally breathes when she spots the familiar mop of brown hair emerge from the bus.

He immediately runs into her arms and she holds him close, breathing in the scent of his hair as if to memorize it.

"Are you okay kid?" she asks while scanning him over as if he had spent his day exploring the African jungle rather than school.

"Yeah, I'm fine; what were you so worried about? It was just the bus."

She bends to his eye level and brushes his bangs out of his eyes. "That's just what moms do." She turns to open the door but Henry catches her in another hug.

"You don't have to worry, Mom," he whispers into her shirt, "I won't ever leave you alone."

Tears glistening in her eyes, she plants a kiss on his forehead and thanks her lucky stars for giving her not only such a wonderful little boy, but also a friend in her world of isolation and hurt.

Because there isn't one person in this world that knows her better than her best friend.


	5. Family Tree

**The Life You've Always Wanted**

X

_Family Tree_

Henry had never missed an assignment before. He owed it to his mom who did everything in her power to give them a good life to at least try his best in school.

So when Emma receives a call from his teacher informing her that he never turned in his project, she knows something is up.

"Hey, Henry…" She says that evening, settling down beside him before sliding a mug of hot chocolate in his direction. "Anything you wanna tell me?"

"No," he says quickly. But she knows better.

"Something that might involve school?"

His eyes avert to his cocoa and he gives a sad look. "I couldn't do the project."

"And why not?"

He still refuses to look at her, but fetches his binder anyway. "You won't like it," he warns her and lays the sheet on the kitchen table.

Oh.

_Oh._

"Kid," she breathes uneasily. She can't find the words to say. What could she say? How could she help him fill out a poster board sized family tree when she's the only family member she has?

"It's okay," he sighs, "I can take a zero."

She studies the paper and closes her eyes, feeling the pounding of a headache start to form. "Yes you do; it's worth one hundred points."

"What are we going to do?" he asks.

She holds up one finger, signaling him to give her a minute, and paces around the kitchen while drumming her fingers on her chin. Emma spent a lifetime trying to fill out her own family tree and still has yet to succeed. How could she fill out her son's in the time of one evening?

Lightbulb.

"I have an idea." She pulls a cardboard box full of art supplies out of the hall closet and drops it on the table. Henry scans over it and smiles, focusing in on every doodle and paint splotch around the perimeter and remembering exactly when they created them.

She lays a piece of poster board on the table and he leaps to pin the rolling ends down with a stapler, scissors and his mug as she sits beside him.

"When I was a kid I would…I mean, I was so desperate for parents I would…I…I kind of made it a game. A make-believe game." She smiles, "I would pretend I had them."

"Really?"

"Yup. Gave them fake names and everything."

He grins, and then realizes what she has in mind. "So you're saying we can make them all up?"

She nods. "It's not like their going to look up your birth records to check for accuracy. I just think it would make a better looking tree than one with just me on it."

He chooses not to mention the original plan he had in mind, pulls out a blue marker, and writes _Henry Swan_ as neatly as possible. Then moves up a level and switches to a red one: _Emma Swan._ He selects a green and glances back to her. "What did you call them?"

She pauses, tracing back to her thoughts she previously had placed under lock and key. "I think I named my father Dave. Dave Swan."

"Dave?"

"It seemed like a very dad name at the time. Just go with it."

He nods and scribbles it down. "And your mom?"

"Margaret. No, that's what I called her mother I think." She stops again and digs deeper and deeper into her head until she smiles, reminiscing on a time long ago that she felt a warm familiarity with the name. "Mary."

"Mary Swan?"

"Yeah, Mary _Swan_." She emphasizes. Her parents were _always_ together in her imagination.

"I like those names."

"Me too, kid."

They carry on for the rest of the evening, giggling at the names the other was capable of coming up with. After hours of working, coloring, and chuckling, they decided that Mary's parents were named Eugene and Margaret Bird, while Dave's were Gene and Emma-Rose Swan, which is why Emma was named what she is.

"Maybe she was the one that helped out the most when you were on the way," Henry explains. She smiles, silently wondering if it could have been true. She guesses she'll never know.

They both step back to admire their work. All looks well to Emma, but Henry can't help but feel like it isn't quite finished. It doesn't hit her until she catches his fingers grazing over the empty spot to the right above his name, precisely where a father's name should be.

"Henry I-" She begins, but he stops her.

"It's okay," he grins. "I know you don't like to talk about it. You don't have to tell me 'til you're ready."

She wraps her son in a tight hug from behind. "How did I get so lucky to have you?"

But her luck is far from over.

X

She's going to be late for work, but she doesn't care. Her son worked way too hard on his project for him to receive any tardiness deductions and she'll be damned if she doesn't bring it to him because he left it.

When she steps into his classroom where all but the teacher has left for an assembly, however, his poster is the first thing she sees.

Surrounded by extravagant posters dating back dozens of generations by the skillful hands of his classmates and their parents, Henry's beautiful tree stood shimmering with golden leaves. His name rested at the base of the trunk with a line drawn to her own directly above it. While the other students had placed names of great great great grandparents and uncles and aunts and cousins twice removed within the green paint of leaves, her darling little boy had hand written a single poem centered in the gold:

_The trees around mine are long and tall,_

_but families are different, mine is just small._

_It may be the littlest on the wall,_

_but my mom is the greatest family of all._


	6. Christmas

**The Life You've Always Wanted**

x

_Christmas_

Christmas was never Emma's favorite holiday. Not that she was a Scrooge and hated the day itself; she actually adored walking through neighborhoods in the winter seeing snowmen in every yard, kids dragging each other on sleds, and most importantly, the way the radiant lights shined against the white snow on the houses at night. It was one of the few little things that made her life a teeny bit easier.

What she didn't enjoy, on the other hand, was the ever-growing empty feeling inside when she remembered that she would never truly fit in with a family for this special day. Foster families were one thing, but waking up on Christmas morning knowing that she is surrounded by people that love her just seemed too good to be true.

That is, until Henry came along.

And Christmas just so happened to be Henry's favorite.

Interestingly enough, his reason for favoritism was not based on presents. Though he always received them, money was tight for the single mom. He knew seeing his Christmas loot compared to his friends' made her feel bad, but not him. He chose to appreciate every gift whole-heartedly, whether it cost five dollars or fifty. She did so much for him on a regular basis; why should she have to fork out more just for a holiday?

Instead, his favorite part was making it special for her in every way possible, knowing that hers weren't all that great before he was born.

.

Emma takes a break from wrapping last minute presents and peers out from her window. He's been working on something all evening, turning down hot chocolate twice in the midst. It concerned her, but he assured her that it was strictly Christmas business and she wasn't allowed to even take one peek at it until instructed otherwise. She would be lying if she said that she hadn't looked anyway, but the little punk had outsmarted her and thrown a plastic tarp over his work to prevent her from snooping.

So she watches him from afar. He's pacing back and forth, descending and ascending from the makeshift hide-a-gift, looking a lot like a little abominable snowman in his ridiculous amount of layers and covered in snow. She is only skeptical when she catches him dragging along a string of Christmas lights behind him, to which he replies, "Miss Rebecca next door let me borrow them," and disappears under the tarp again.

He finally comes in rosy-cheeked and shivering at dinnertime.

"I have to take the cover off so it'll work. But you have to pinkie promise that you won't look until I tell you," he orders.

They shake pinkies and then gleefully carry on with their Christmas Eve traditions; burning cookies, dancing around the kitchen to their favorite holiday tunes, getting so carried away with it that the cookies are charcoal, giving up on the cookies after the third batch, and settling down for hot cocoa with cinnamon and watching their favorite Christmas movies (_Elf_ for Henry and _A Christmas Story_ for Emma) until they fall asleep.

Henry can barely get a wink in. His racing heart and uncontainable smile wake him up about every two hours to check his clock. He watches it move for ages until it strikes seven, to which he promptly shoots up, bullets down the stairs and flies out the front door.

He steps in the mushy grass, hoping his masterpiece was still in place. He had been stalking the weather radar for days and they all stated the same thing: the temperature would rise enough to melt away most of the snow from earlier. That is, unless someone took the time and effort to pack the snow into blocks tightly enough to contain the cold.

Henry is that someone, and that something worked.

He grins and dashes to the outlet to plug in the lights he's tucked so carefully into his work, the finishing touches on his surprise. To his disappointment, his victory grows farther away, as the bulbs only light up _MERRY CHRISTMAS _and short circuit once they reach _MOM_, causing them all to go out.

"No, no, this can't happen," he mumbles to himself, frantically unplugging and plugging them back up.

"Henry?" a sleepy voice calls from behind him. He spins around to find Emma tying her robe. "Honey, what's wrong?"

He's still pouting, but he throws his arms around her.

"I tried to make it special for you…but the stupid lights won't work." She peers over him at his message in the snow and gasps.

"Oh, kid! I love it!"

His head snaps up in confusion. "You do?"

"Yes! It's amazing!" she hugs him closer. "The lights don't matter, I promise."

"But you said as a kid you loved seeing the lights in the snow."

She has to bite her lip to keep from crying. "The fact that you spent a whole day working on this for me makes it the best thing ever. No uncooperative lights can change that."

He beams, but hangs his head anyway. "I knew that if the snow melted today you wouldn't get to see your favorite part of Christmas…"

She kneels down and takes his hands in hers. "Kid, _you're_ my favorite part of Christmas."

And just as she hugs him again, like a force greater than electricity, power surges through the wires, making Henry's gift shine brighter than the lights have ever before.

"Look, Mom! They're working!" They both stop and stare in awe.

"They sure are, Henry," she says in disbelief. "They sure are."

"Merry Christmas, Mom."


	7. Valentine's Day

**Valentine's Day**

For Beckah, just ignore the fact that it's a few day late.

x

Her eyes open slowly and she stretches out across the bed. Funny, her weekday sleep schedule never seemed to give her as good a slumber as this one. She actually feels well rested. Odd...

And then she realizes. Her head snaps to the right, facing her alarm clock that reads 8:45. Why didn't her alarm go off? This completely ruins her plans. She kicks off the covers and dashes out of her room towards her son's.

"Henry!" She calls before she even makes it to his room. "Honey, I overslept, we're gonna be late-" She stops when she feels an unfamiliar texture on the bottom of her foot. She raises it, revealing a pink rose petal.

Her eyes follow her previous path, which is scattered with petals of pink, red, and white.

_Oh god, he didn't,_ she thinks to herself, chuckling as she follows the rest of the petals to the kitchen. Sure enough, he's there. She watches unnoticed as her son places two red plates on the breakfast table before stepping back to admire his work: a pink tablecloth, heart shaped napkins, and red plastic silverware surrounding the two plates of mac and cheese on their designated spots. He doesn't catch her standing there until he's scattering more rose petals around the setup.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" he exclaims, running into her already open arms.

"You did all this?" Emma asks, noticing more and more decorations as she enters the room with an arm around him. Construction paper hearts all over the walls, plastic roses in Starbucks cups (obviously the only "vases" he could find) on every counter; he even took the liberty of decorating all of the picture frames with the holiday's signature colors.

He guides her to the table, pulling out her chair for her first, of course. "I figured you had something planned, so I turned off your alarm and got myself up and ready."

She can tell by his wrinkled clothes and messy hair, but doesn't comment on it. He gleefully brings over the second course: two strawberry pop tarts, heart shaped by the handiwork of a cookie cutter.

"Easy mac and pop tarts for breakfast, huh?" She chuckles.

He shrugs. "I was gonna try to make pancakes, but _someone_ doesn't let me use the stove without help."

"For a very good reason, one might add."

He grins and finishes off the table with two mugs of hot chocolate, both with a leaning tower of Pisa like structure of whip cream and a dump truck load of cinnamon. "I know, not as good as yours, but-"

"But it's perfect anyway, though the orange doesn't exactly match your theme." She teases.

"I could have used chili powder." He laughs at her shudder.

"Yeah, let's not do that again."

"You know it was funny!"

Emma rolls her eyes, smiling at the memory of her son's April Fool's Day extravaganza last year.

"I have to admit, kid," she says, taking a bite of pop tart, "you got me good today. I had a whole set up planned for you. Even Pinterest had _nothing_ on what I came up with!"

"There's always next year." Henry smirks, then proceeds in picking up the box of matches he brought with the cocoa, giving his mother a stroke in the process.

She leaps into action. "Whoa whoa whoa there, Henry, let me do that-"

"I've got it. I'll be careful, I promise." Emma watches him like a hawk while he struggles to catch a spark on the first few tries and holds her breath as he moves the open flame over the table, but relaxes when he lights the candles easily and blows the match out.

"I keep forgetting you're getting older," she admits with a sigh.

"Doesn't mean I'm going anywhere." he grins, raising up his mug. "To...to Valentine's Day, which is so much better with a family instead of a date."

She raises her own in turn. "Romance schmomance, this is a mother-son holiday."

"To Valenmotherson's Day!" He adds, clinking their mugs together. Sure a little spills, and the duo end up flinging whip cream at each other instead of cleaning it off the table, and both are even a little late to school and work, but Emma doesn't care. She would go into work late every day if it meant another memory made with Henry.

And there's nothing in this realm she treasures more.


	8. Wounded

**The Life You've Always Wanted**

x

_Wounded_

How an early bird came from a non-morning person, she would never know.

Even more so on this special occasion, on which she had decided to be even _less_ of a morning person and sleep later. Henry on the other hand, saw it as an opportunity to rise even earlier.

"_Psst," _she hears. She assumes it's a part of her dream and ignores it.

_Psst, psst," _the sound continues, echoing off the walls of her mind until she realizes it's from the outer world. Emma slowly eases one eye open to find herself inches from her son's face and it sets him off like a rocket ship.

"Oh good, you're awake," he cackles, "Now get up! C'mon! Time to get up!"

She looks over her beaming ball of sunshine for only a few seconds before returning to the darkness.

"No, no, I said get up, not go back to sleep!" he flops beside her and lifts her eyelid with his finger to make sure she's paying attention this time. "You can't spend your whole birthday sleeping!"

"On the contrary, it is _my_ birthday," she states, "I think I can do whatever I want." And with that, she promptly places the pillow over her head.

Henry frowns. There's no way she's going to win this one. He rises to his feet and begins to bounce. He hops in zigzags all over the bed, careful not to step on her, only to keep her from falling back asleep.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU," he belts out between jumps, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR MO-OM HAPPY BIR-"

It happens too quickly for her to stop it, but in milliseconds she's shifted from nearly asleep sloth to an alert cheetah on a hunt – leaping from her bed to the floor where he's sprawled out and clutching his knee, a look of moderate pain on his face. Though he's much too big for it, she swoops him into her arms and scans him over anyway.

"Well that got you up," he laughs, wiping the tears out of his eyes before they're noticeable.

She catches her breath, "Next time you want to pull something like that, you might want to aim away from the wall. This will leave a nasty bruise." He shrugs and she moves his face around gently to face hers. "Don't scare me like that again, okay?"

He nods. "I won't. I'll bang some pots and pans next time."

She bumps his shoulder with her own. "What am I gonna do with you, Henry?"

"Love me?" He suggests.

She pulls him in for a hug and kisses his head after smoothing his hair away. "You got it, kid."


	9. The Glass Unicorns

**The Life You've Always Wanted**

_The Glass Unicorns_

X

**Author's Note:** this one is going to be a little different in comparison to the others, but I think you'll enjoy just as much. :)

X

She remembers them. Of course she does.

Seeing them, touching them, marveling at the way the light catches them, everything.

It just feels like a lifetime ago.

X

She sweeps through the bedroom one final time before sprinting to the complex's main floor. Everything had to be perfect.

And it is, to say the least. She had to make sure she was settled and on stable ground before stepping into this brave new world, and boy was she ready.

She can see him before she makes it to the bottom of the stairs and it is like he had doubled in size since she last saw him. _How is that possible?_ She wonders, _is it really him?_

But from the minute he is lifted from the car seat, placed into her open arms, and eye contact is made, she knows it with all of her heart. This is most definitely him.

"Hi, Henry," she says softly, "I've missed you so much." The baby coos and snuggles closer.

The woman explains his routine she's kept while he has been in her care. Emma's listening, of course, but has yet to take her eyes off her son.

_Her son, _the child she originally planned on never seeing again. The little bundle that changed everything the moment she saw him. And most importantly, the newfound hope brought upon her that kept her going until she was released.

The woman carries the things she brought with her without asking for assistance, not wanting to break the tender moment. She follows Emma to her apartment where they discuss this big step more in depth, while the new mother doesn't set the child down once. Whether she's rocking him, smoothing out his small amount of hair, kissing his head, or simply unconsciously swaying side to side with Henry in her arms as she gives her a tour, she can't seem to let him go. It's almost as if she needs a constant reminder that he's really there.

Before her dismissal, she carefully lifts a small box from one of her bags. "I took him with me to a novelty shop and he fell in love," she explains, pulling out the crinkled newspaper to reveal an extravagantly made glass mobile.

"He likes the unicorns," she grins.

Emma, eyes locked on the unicorns, manages out, "I..I can't accept this."

"Trust me, you'll need them. Consider it a late baby shower gift."

She flashes a teary grin.

The only baby shower gift she received.

X

It's a late hour in the night and she's still awake, holding her sweet son in her arms. Her sweet, restless son she might add. Emma waltzes around their shared bedroom, bouncing him ever so slightly, inhaling his clean scent as he fusses against her shoulder.

"C'mon, Henry, settle down, I'm here," she murmurs. She cradles his head in her hand and holds him close, wishing she could take away whatever was making him so upset. Everything she did felt natural, what was she doing wrong?

Suddenly, he stops. She freezes and glances down to find him peering over her shoulder, completely captivated by the mobile laying across her bed. She had contemplated putting them up since unicorns aren't very gender neutral, but given Henry's current state of memorization, she knows they are definitely a go.

She places him in his bouncer and quickly hangs it up, swinging them a few times for a safety test.

"Okay, kid, is this better?" She asks as she cradles him again, this time directing his attention towards the mobile. Sure enough, his crying fit is quickly replaced with sounds of delight. The baby watches the unicorns bob and swing with grace until his eyelids flutter and his tiny mouth forms an _O_ and he shifts over, burying his face in her soft pajama shirt.

That's when she learns the key to raising her child: simplicity. As much as she tried to make herself think so before, he doesn't need a perfect life in some far off place for his best chance; this one will do just fine, in a safe home where mistakes can be made as well as they can be learned from, love is easy, and the littlest things matter the most.

"So, Henry, I'll go right out and say it," she begins, "I'm not perfect. I didn't have the best life. I haven't made the best choices. But I do know one thing: you will _never_ have to grow up the way I did." She presses her lips to his head before gently lowering him to his bassinet.

She wipes away the single tear rolling down her cheek and kisses his fingers that are sleepily gripping her pinkie. _"You will never be alone,"_ she whispers._ "I pinkie promise."_

X

It's a hazy memory, and to her disappointment, the beautiful mobile was somehow lost over the years, but Emma Swan remembers the unicorns. Without a doubt.


End file.
